


Paint Please, Mr. Rogers!

by chekovna



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Art Teacher AU, F/F, M/M, Parent Bucky, Teacher AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekovna/pseuds/chekovna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers loves art, and he loves kids. So he became an art teacher. And, as teachers do, he makes it his policy to not mix work life with his private life.</p><p>And it works great- Right up until nine-year-old Natasha Barnes waltzes in with her oh-so-single, oh-so-charming, and oh-so-attractive father, James Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint Please, Mr. Rogers!

Steve loves September. Crisp, morning air to cut through during his runs. Leaves are changing myriad colors and decorating the sidewalks. Scarves are coming back into fashion. Steve would never admit this, but he is a sucker for pumpkin spice lattes. And not to mention, the best part of the month-

 “Mr. Rogers!” Steve smiles and sips from his thermos -he had to go homemade today- as a small army of children giggle and hug his legs as they run off the schoolbus.

“Mr. Rogers! Mr. Rogers!” one of the third graders exclaims, her little blonde braids swinging up and down as she jumps and tugs on Steve’s coat repeatedly.

“Yes, Sharon?”

“My aunt Peggy showed me a new TV show over the summer, and guess what!”

Steve laughs, recalling his boss Peggy Carter, principal of their school. Sharon had tried to set him and Peggy up, and frankly, so had the rest of the staff. And wouldn’t you know it, just this summer, Peggy had become engaged to Steve’s lovely next door neighbor, Angie Martinelli. Steve prides himself on bringing the two together.

“Mr. Rogers, guess what!” Sharon tugs on his coat with a little more strength.

“What?” Steve asks, curiosity written all over his face, delighting Sharon.

“The man in the show is also named Mr. Rogers!” Steve laughs, knowing exactly what show Peggy had shown her niece. “And he was like you! But older,” Sharon continues, wrinkling her nose. “Except you are also like Bob Ross.”

“Bob Ross! Bob Ross!” the other kids shout in delight. Steve had shown them a few Bob Ross videos last year when their teacher was out sick and he had to sub.

Steve blushes and ruffles the top of Sharon’s head. “You think so?” Sharon nods solemnly. The group reaches the doors of the school and Steve pulls them open, ushering the kids inside. “Alright, kids, I’ll see you later!” he says, nudging them down the hallway.

“Goodbye, Mr. Rogers!” they all exclaim in tandem, waving and skipping to class. Steve stops in the hallway and smiles at the sight.

“It sure is strange to find myself missing those noisy buggers, but I do. I do miss them.” Steve turns his head to his left to see his friend and coworker Sam Wilson in his trademark PE teacher grey tracksuit.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Why do you think I get up everyday?”

Sam laughs. “The paycheck?” Steve rolls his eyes and nudges Sam in the arm.

“There are a million jobs with paychecks, Sam.” Sam laughs again and shakes his head.

“Well, you love them, and they love you. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

“You got that right. Hey, I’ll see you later, alright?” Steve says, raising his thermos in lieu of a wave.

“Yeah, man. I heard Janet and Hank are having a barbecue later on at their place!”

Steve shakes his head and smiles. Not even back for a day and there’s already a faculty party. “I’ll be there.”

“Alright, see you later,” Sam says, slapping Steve on the back and jogging off to the faculty room. Steve shakes his head, marveling at Sam’s constant energy and movement.

 

————————

 

One month in, and Steve is already analyzing the talent among his students. He teaches art from pre-k to eighth grade, giving him a pretty large portfolio, but one student in particular has caught his eye.

Natasha Barnes transferred just this year into the fourth grade and obviously came in with previous art training. She’s quiet, keeps to herself, carries out her assignments in due time with no fuss, and even sketches in her own sketchbook when she finishes. She reminds Steve a lot of himself at her age. Although, her decision to keep to herself is more of her choice than it was Steve’s.

“Hey, Nat, what are you drawing?” Steve asks, coming up next to Natasha and squatting beside her desk.

She quickly flips the page and leans her head down, contrary to her usual drawing style where she leans away from the paper to better see the full picture. “It’s Natasha. And I don’t know yet.”

Steve smiles softly. “Alright, Natasha. If you want any ideas, feel free to ask me. And before I go, I was wondering… Your art really impresses me, especially for your age bracket, and I enjoy looking at it. Do you mind if I enter it in the school's winter art show?”

Natasha becomes silent for a few seconds, and just as Steve is about to open his mouth and tell her that it’s okay, she could think about it, Natasha raises her head and flips the page back to where she had just been drawing, not lifting it up to his face for him to see, but not blocking him from it either. “It’s my mom,” she says, softly. She clears her throat, continuing, “Well, what I think she looks like, anyway. I’ve never met my mom.” Pause. “I’m adopted.”

Steve’s smile becomes softer and he nods. “How come you think she looks like that?” It was obvious of course; the woman in the drawing looks almost exactly like Natasha, but with a more mature and stern face. Steve wants to keep Natasha talking so he can look at the drawing longer, but Natasha shrugs and shuts the book closed. “I dreamt her.” Natasha pauses for a silent second, and then, “Can you put this in the art show too?” she asks.

Steve’s eyebrows rise before he quickly puts on a wide smile. “Of course, Natasha!”

“Thanks,” she whispers as the homeroom teacher walks in, signaling the end of art class.

 

————————

 

Steve smiles as he walks into the classroom to see Natasha talking and laughing quietly with Clint Barton, another student in the class. She’s opening up more and more as the school year goes on, even if she still warily eyes Clint’s large group of friends. Besides Clint, though, Natasha has taken a liking to another shy student, Bruce Banner. Steve suspects that there is more to little Natasha than meets the eye.

Steve walks around the classroom handing out magazines of artwork, instructing students on how to properly use the color wheel, and _no, Scott, you’re holding the whole thing upside down, yes, now tilt it a bit, there you go._

“What is Ms. Barnes up to today?” Steve asks. Natasha had finished the color wheel assignment in fifteen minutes and was back at her sketchbook again, but this time with Bruce Banner looking over her arm at the notebook.

“Hi, Mr. Rogers,” Bruce says softly, quickly turning back to his nearly finished assignment.

“Hi Bruce, how are you?”

“M’good,” Bruce mutters, labelling his hand-drawn boxes as for secondary colors.

“Alrighty. Let me know if you need help, okay?” Bruce nods, not taking his intensely focused stare off of his paper. “Secondary colors are between the primaries in ROY G. BIV, remember?” Bruce’s face lights up in understanding, and he nods vigorously and reaches for the crayons, a smile on his bright face.

“Mr. Rogers,” Natasha says thoughtfully, her pencil laying up against her cheek thoughtfully. She turns her wide green eyes on him, startling him as he looks up from her sketch of a teddy bear. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Steve is shocked into silence for a few seconds. A few students turn and giggle, and Natasha raises her eyebrows in expectation. He laughs awkwardly. “Uhm, can't say that I do.”

“Oh. Okay.” She goes back to drawing for a little bit before turning suddenly and asking, "How 'bout a boyfriend?” She is deadpan in her interrogation, more good cop than curious nine year old child. Bruce slyly looks up out of the corners of his eyes.

".....no, don't have one of those either." Steve wasn’t sure where this was going; with Natasha, it could be anywhere or nowhere at all.

"Huh. Y'know who else doesn't have a boyfriend? My dad."

This definitely is _not_ going nowhere.

Steve opens his mouth and tilts his head in confusion, but he is saved from having to elicit a response when the regular teacher comes back in.

He can feel Natasha’s smirk boring holes into his back, and as he wheels the cart of art supplies out of the classroom he wonders whether she is really only nine years old.

 

—————————

 

Steve is standing at Natasha’s three panel display board of art in the auditorium when he hears footsteps come up behind him and stop. He glances behind him to see a tired yet well dressed parent and moves aside so he is no longer blocking the art, putting out an arm to present it. “This is Natasha Barnes’ art. She’s a fourth grade student here at the school.”

The parent smiles, obviously amused. Why, Steve has no idea, but hey, parents could be strange. The man looks at Steve’s name tag and smirks. “So, you're the famous Mr. Rogers I've heard so much about.”

Steve’s mind starts racing at a hundred miles an hour, a series of _shits_ and _oh fucks_ , trying to put together the pieces and figure out whose parent this is and whether or not his name being a household one was good or bad and what on earth did he do to their child, when all of a sudden a small redhead runs up and grabs a hold of the parent’s hand and Steve totally blanks.

And then his brain explodes into a whole new series of incredibly more intensified _shits_ and _oh fucks_ because this is Natasha’s single dad and _he is fucking cute as hell._

Steve composes himself and laughs good naturedly. He squats to Natasha’s level and says, “So, Natasha, this is your dad?” She smirks and nods, leaning into her dad’s leg and gripping his hand tightly. He stands back up and holds out his hand. “Mr. Barnes, it’s great to meet you! I’m Steve Rogers, your daughter’s art teacher.” Steve shakes his hand and laughs, saying, “But I guess you already knew that.”

“Please, call me James.” _Fuck._ “Nat just gushes about you at dinner every day, you know,” James says with a laugh. Steve raises his eyebrows and smiles down at Natasha, who melts further into her father’s leg.

“Natasha!” Clint calls from across the room, waving and holding his mother’s hand. She waves and looks up at her father, who nods with a smile and lets her hand go so she can run off to her friend.

“Natasha’s really grown this past semester,” Steve praises as he watches Natasha socialize with Clint’s whole group. He desperately hopes Natasha hadn’t told her father that he is single.

He also desperately hopes that James Barnes asks him if he is single.

James turns from Steve to look at his daughter and smiles. “Yeah, she has, hasn’t she? First few weeks she wouldn’t talk about school at all. She’d always answer my ‘ _How was school?’_ with a ‘ _Good, dad’_ and fill her mouth with dinner, or _‘Any new friends?’_ with a shrug.” Steve laughs and turns from Natasha to her father and is shocked to find his eyes already on him. James smirks. “But she was so excited when she came home the day she had her first art class, babbling on about how you wanted to put her in the art show and how much she liked you better than the other teachers.” James’ smirk softens to a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers, for making her feel welcome and comfortable. Art is really one of her passions, and I know she just wouldn’t have been able to bear the move if she didn’t enjoy her art class.”

Steve smiles, sincerely touched. “Of course, uhm, James.” James’ smirk returns, and Steve does everything in his power to keep his blush from spreading across his cheeks. “I just- I love art, I’ve loved it my whole life, and I wouldn’t have become an art teacher if I didn’t want to share my passion with others. I believe that teachers are some of the most influential people in young kids’ lives, aside from parents and peers, so I think it’s important that we’re kind and patient with them. A lot of teachers grow tired of their jobs and they become sort of rough with the students but I think that’s such a negative influence on their lives, you know? But art, art puts them in touch with their hearts and souls and it’s a good release from the, well, don’t tell the other teachers I said this, but, the _boring_ main subjects. Don’t get me wrong, they’re just as important, but, uh, well-” Steve suddenly realizes that his hands had been waving all over the place as he was talking. He blushes and quickly brings them in, chuckling awkwardly as he looks down at his shoes and rubs the back of his neck. When he looks back up, however, James Barnes is smiling widely at him as if he actually _enjoyed_ Steve’s rant.

“I think it’s great for teachers to have a passion for their job and the subject they teach,” James says, his genuine smile still on his face. Steve nods, and they stand in a comfortable silence as James moves up next to him and they both turn to admire Natasha’s art. There’s the drawing of her mother next to her watercolor teddy bear, as well as some class assignments: a recreation of a calendar photo of some flowers, her version of a Degas ballerina, and a drawing of a picture frame containing a photo of her and her father. They had studied Georgia O’Keeffe throughout the first semester, so a lot of the art was flowers in various styles and colors: an oil pastel of purple lilies, a red and pink watercolor rose, and a charcoal sunflower.

“I hope Nat wasn’t too… forward. Or prying,” James says after a few moments.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks, not taking his eyes off of the art as he feels James glance at him without turning his head.

“Well…” There’s a pause before he continues, “Nat tells me that you’re single.”  
  
Steve freezes up and his eyes glaze over. He’s looking at the art but isn’t taking in any of the shapes or hues. Any other parent and he surely would have immediately been babbling on about how he keeps his private life separate from the workplace and it really was inappropriate and he would never have disclosed any of that to the kids, after all, they were there for an education, not a gossip session, but for some reason, Steve finds that his throat is closed up and he doesn’t say a thing. He blinks after a minute and turns to James, fully aware of the heat all up his neck and face. James’s face doesn’t betray any emotion, but his eyes are taking in all of Steve’s.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, if that was out of line-”  
  
“Please,” Steve interrupts. “Call me Steve.”

James smirks, and Steve doesn't think it's possible for his face to heat up any more. “Well, _Steve_ , hopefully I can call a restaurant, too, and reserve a table for the two of us? How do you feel about Romanian?”

 _Shit._ _That was so smooth._

Steve quickly glances up to see Sam laughing and giving him a thumbs up. James doesn’t keep his eyes off of Steve, and Steve looks back at James and unintentionally locks eyes with him.

Sam squats and high fives Natasha.

  
“I love Romanian.”


End file.
